


A Man on a Mission

by ralf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1, 6+1, Crack, Gen, Humor, Peter Being A Creep, Post-Season/Series 02, Stiles being Stiles, but it's just, could be considered, derek being derek, or rather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 15:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16222055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ralf/pseuds/ralf
Summary: Stiles straightens himself, lifts his chin challengingly and gets down to business. “Since no one seems to get their teeth unstuck I decided I would make a start and give everyone a piece of my mind to prevent future disasters.”Derek lifts his eyebrows, clearly unimpressed. It's no matter. Stiles will not be deterred.





	A Man on a Mission

**Author's Note:**

> **Set after Season 2.** This is kinda ridiculous but it's been sitting half-finished in my files _forever_ and I wanted to write some teen wolf again and all my other half-finished teen wolf ficlets are depressing af, so here we are. I hope you enjoy this :o

**1\. Derek**

The burnt out shell of the Hale house looms over him threateningly but Stiles just takes a deep breath and steels himself. He can do this.

Before he's so much as lifted his hand to knock there's a voice coming from behind him. “What are you doing here?”

Stiles yelps and whips around. There is Derek, in all his scowly leathery arm-crossed glory. Stiles straightens himself, lifts his chin challengingly and gets down to business. “Since no one seems to get their teeth unstuck I decided I would make a start and give everyone a piece of my mind to prevent future disasters.”

Derek lifts his eyebrows, clearly unimpressed. It's no matter. Stiles will not be deterred.

“Okay. Derek.” Stiles clears his throat.

Derek glares.

Stiles flails. “Okay, first thing: You gotta stop this.” He gestures wildly, encompassing all of Derek.

Derek huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Second thing: I don't know if you noticed but you have got some serious trust issues going on.” He pauses, cocking his head. “I mean, I can understand that since... everytime you try and trust someone it blows up in your face...”

Derek glares harder.

Maybe he should have prepared in advance what he wants to say instead of winging it? Well, nothing to be done about that now. Only way out is through.

“...but. It's not helpful. Like, at all.” Stiles flails some more to enforce his point. “Plus your default _I need to keep everyone out of stuff_ mode is, while kinda honorable, also pretty unhelpful 'cause it means you never tell anybody anything. That's bad.”

Derek answers with frosty silence and an impressive frown.

“Evil things won't stop killing us just because we're teenagers. You're not doing us any favors here, dude.” Stiles is tempted to poke him in hopes that this will get through to him, but he likes his fingers attached to his body, thank you very much.

“How about you leave before I give you a piece of _my_ mind about the amount you talk,” Derek growls.

Stiles sighs, frustrated, while simultaneously inching backwards. Just to be on the safe side. “Okay okay, fine, I get it. But at least think about what I said.”

Derek growls, eyes flashing dangerously.

Stiles stumbles a few steps back. “Or not, it's fine,” he yells over his shoulder, beating a hasty retreat.

Well that was a bust.

 

**2\. Scott**

Next on the list is Scott. This is easy. This is a walk in the park. Stiles deals with Scott _all the time._ He's got this.

They're sitting next to each other on the carpet in Stiles's bedroom, hunched over their respective controlers when Stiles remarks offhandedly, “Stop mooning over Allison all the time. It's exhausting and makes me wonder how you keep surviving with that misplaced priorities of yours, man.”

Scott just grunts in response and curses when his avatar gets beaten into a pulp. Apparently werewolf reflexes aren't a miraculous cure for everything after all.

Stiles gives himself a (metaphorical, of course) pat on the back for a job well done. Though deep down he has some serious doubts about how effective this little intervention will prove to be.

 

**3\. Allison**

There are many things he'd like to say to Allison. He's made a bullet point list and everything. It reads

\- What the hell?

\- I can't believe you.

\- You seriously wanted to assassinate Scott?! WTF

\- Where are your morals? I know, I know, my moral compass is screwed six ways from sunday, but at least I _have_ one.

\- Werewolves are friends not food.

_\- What the hell?!?!?!?!!?!?!??!?!ß1ß11_

but... he kind of likes his body without arrows in it, so he thinks he'll pass.

 

**4\. Danny**

Danny's face pinces into something less than pleased when he opens the door to Stiles's winningly grinning face. “Stiles? How do you know where I live?”

“Hey ho Danny boy, what a beautiful day we're having. How's it going?”

Danny heaves a deep sigh as if he's resigning himself to a lifetime of misery. Stiles is insulted.

“What do you want, Stiles.”

It's said so flatly it's more a statement than a question but whatever, beggars can't be choosers. “How nice of you to ask, there is in fact a tiny mini negligible thing you could do for me,” Stiles says, holding his hand up, thumb and pointer pressed firmly togehter.

Danny looks at his face, to his hand, back at his face and heaves another sigh. “What do you want, Stiles.”

Stiles scrambles closer and leans nonchalantly in the doorway. (Or maybe not so nonchalantly because he almost falls over. He's working on it, okay?!)

“It would be extremely helpful and very important if you could...” Stiles blinks meaningfully, “loosen up a little.”

Danny's brow crunches in utter confusion. “What? No seriously, _what?_ And didn't you just say whatever you wanted was unimportant?”

Stiles waves his hand, barely missing Danny's nose. “Literal lives depend on it, but no pressure. And what I mean is pretty obvious, isn't it? If you could reduce the amount of time it takes to convince you to do something illegal that would be great. What's a little hacking and stealing information, amiright?” Stiles laughs.

Danny slams the door in his face.

Rude.

 

**5\. Lydia**

Since there is a fifty-fifty chance Lydia won't open the door for him Stiles has decided to ambush her in her second home – the Beacon Hills Shopping Mall. He's only been lurking in the aisles of the women's underwear section for about half an hour when he catches sight of his target.

He advances from downwind so Lydia won't have the chance to run away. Still she seems unsurprised when he pops up between the shelves in front of her. She merely raises her brows at him, prompting him to speak. Stiles has no doubt that she already knows all about his interventions and is expecting her assessment.

He contemplates her for a moment and comes to the only possible solution.

“Just stay the way you are, Lydia. You're perfect.”

Lydia makes a satisfied little _hm_ sound _,_ flicks her hair over her shoulder and sashays away.

 

**5 ½. Jackson**

Stiles has made half a step out of the store when Jackson, jackass that he is, rams his shoulder in passing. Stiles spins around on his heel, a few choice words already on the tip of his tongue, but Jackson beats him to it. “I heard you're going around annoying everyone about how they should behave.”

Who could Jackson possibly know that from? The only logical answer is Lydia. Stiles suddenly feels five inches taller.

He cracks his neck and gives Jackson a disparaging once over. “Damn right.”

Jackson snorts and steals an uncomfortable glance towards the underwear displayed in the shopwindow. “Can't wait to hear your advice.”

Apparently talking to Stiles wins out over shopping bras with Lydia. Go figure.

Well, never look a gift werewolf in the mouth, right? Stiles cracks his knuckles for good measure and notes with a smirk that Jackson flinches at the sound. “Okay. You ready?”

Jackson stares at him, unimpressed.

“Just stop.”

Jackson frowns uncomprehendingly.

Stiles gestures at him. “Stop your everything. Really, I mean it. Just _stop it._ ”

And with that he walks away, abandoning Jackson to his fate as Lydia's pack lizard.

 

 

**+1. Peter**

Stiles is bouncing the last few steps to his front door, at peace with the world and himself, when suddenly a figure appears in the corner of his eye.

Stiles screeches. It's not a pretty sound. He's man enough to admit that.

He whirls around and sees Peter, leaning casually against a tree and cleaning his claws.

“I heard what you said to my nephew and I can't help but wonder if you have some wise words you wish to impart on me, too,” he says without looking up from the task at hand.

Stiles splutters for a moment, before catching himself. “Actually, I do.”

“Oh?” Peter deigns to look at him and Stiles is glad because that means he gets to see his face when he says, “How about you _stay dead when you're killed?!_ ”

 


End file.
